Genesis
by kenansense
Summary: After the deaths of Will and Lyra, a new evil rises to threaten all of the worlds. Two children brought together by fate must stop it and, in the midst of it all, discover something important about themselves...
1. Prologue, Adam's Atoms

**Genesis**

by KaiserMonkey

Prologue

- - - -

The boatman was silent as the waves sloshed against the hull of his rowboat. A great part of Will felt that the boatman was actually feeling sorry for him, although Will knew that this wasn't possible. The boatman of the World of the Dead didn't feel emotions. Will's Death sat beside him, a very kind and polite guide that Will would rather had not even come into existence.

The oars dipped into the water repeatedly, dip, push, flip, dip, push. A coldness unlike anything that he had ever felt before enveloped Will, and he cried out in anguish for his dead daemon. For Kirjava had disappeared the instant Will had died—in fact, Will had refused to believe he was dying until Kirjava had begun to fade. She was part of the worlds now, he thought, part of Dust and matter and every universe and happy, happier than he was because he was stuck alone in the world of the dead, and Lyra certainly hadn't died yet...

Lyra.

It had been a long time since he had entertained the idea of ever seeing her again. He still returned to the bench in the Botanic Garden every day religiously, although in his old age he had almost forgotten why he continued to do so. The only picture of Lyra that he had, her pale blue eyes burning into him as they shared one last tear-mingling kiss in front of their café in Cittagazze, had lost almost all meaning and faded almost completely into the recesses of his mind. His wife, Alicia, had been the main woman in his life for almost as long as he could remember, ever since he closed the final window and broke the knife. Even Mary Malone and his mother had left him behind, and he had been almost certain that Alicia would soon follow suit.

"It's not very often I have to ferry one across twice, you know," came a voice. Will looked up and was shocked to see that it had come from the weathered boatman, and despite Will's old age—one hundred and five, about average in the world he had come from—the boatman still looked aged beyond years.

Then it came to Will. Was it possible that the boatman would know if Lyra was waiting for him? He felt an immense pang of conscience as he remembered his freshly grieving widow, but the pain of the world of the living was rapidly fading from his concern, leaving him only focused on one thing, one thing before he joined Kirjava in the atoms and particles of the worlds themselves.

"Did you ferry anyone else across recently that you recognized?" asked Will in a raspy voice.

The boatman chuckled, thinking of the love between Adam and Eve, which was still obvious even in their frail condition. "Yes, your love is waiting for you on the other side," said the boatman, and Will felt his heart fill with joy, emptying just as fast when he realized how happy Kirjava would have been if she was here to see this moment.

"Pining for your daemon, I suppose?" asked the boatman, and Will nodded somberly. "Cheer up, young man. She will be waiting for you when you rejoin her—something that only you and your lady friend made possible."

"Yeah, I suppose," said Will. What would await him when he exited through the window that he himself had opened in the world of the mulefa, so many long years ago? Would he be able to find his daemon's disjoined particles, and Lyra's, and intertwine with them and become one like he had been told so long ago?

Will's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden bump of the rowboat against the dock on the island, which looked just as he remembered. He thanked the boatman one last time and stepped off of the boat after his Death, who beckoned him onward.

Unlike the first time that he and Lyra had traversed the island, this time Will had a guide who knew exactly where he was going. His Death looked back continuously as if to reassure himself that Will was still there—an unnecessary action, for Will now wanted nothing more than to join Lyra one last time before he let go.

All around Will were slime-covered blocks of stone, and a dripping noise could be heard echoing throughout the landscape. His Death continued unwaveringly, shrugging off the rain and dreariness of the place as if he was made for it—which, Will reminded himself, he was.

"Don't be so sad," said Will's Death in an extremely misguided attempt at appeasing Will's longing for Kirjava. "You get to go on—you can't possibly tell me that you were happy in the world of the living?"

An image of Will's wife, laughing as he kissed her in the rain, and Kirjava rubbing against his legs to awake him in the morning, and sitting on the bench in the Botanic Garden flashed through Will's mind, but he said nothing. His Death would never understand.

"Here we are, Will," said his Death as they arrived at a wooden door with a hole where the lock should be, and Will nodded with a forced attempt at politeness before pushing through the door, almost shielding his head instinctively before remembering that the harpies had promised not to harm anyone who came through there. Nevertheless, it was warily that he continued on his way through the dreary plain, now empty save for a small number of ghosts that was leaving, guided by a harpy, in order to rejoin the world of the living.

Will's gaze moved throughout the land of the dead. Ahead of him, the plain extended onwards seemingly forever, and the dripping of water echoed even more loudly throughout the lifeless expanse. To his right the ghosts had disappeared into the mist. And on his left—

He almost missed her at first. She looked largely the same, her vivaciousness even more evident that it had been in life in the midst of her monotonous surroundings. Her once-blonde hair had faded to gray, but her blue eyes still held the spark that Will had fallen in love with so long ago.

"Lyra!" shouted Will, although it only came out as a gasping whisper. Nevertheless, he could have sworn that Lyra turned to look at him as he ran towards her, and soon she was in his arms, and even though their ghostly bodies passed through each other he felt the feeling that he had been without for the last eighty years of his life—the very _rightness_ that was being in Lyra's arms, kissing her and simply being _with _her and her hands on Kirjava and her kiss—

"Will?" she said, her eyes suddenly sparking as she recognized him. "Oh! Will! You're here! You're really here!" Her tears flowed freely for the first time in decades as she laid eyes on her lost love.

Will lost track of the amount of time that he and Lyra simply stood there, entranced by each other, staring into each other's eyes and vowing never to leave each other again, and that they'd be together in the end, forever. But they were finally snapped out of their trance by the arrival of a harpy, the rechristened Gracious Wings herself. She looked exactly the same as she had when Will and Lyra had come for the first time to the land of the dead, and she alighted on a stone as she spoke to Will and Lyra.

"And now, Eve, your Adam has returned," said the harpy, and Lyra nodded, her eyes glistening with a feeling beyond anything she had experienced in years.

"I believe there is something you owe me?" Gracious Wings asked kindly, and Will nodded before beginning. He told Gracious Wings everything that had happened to him, from as early in his life as he could remember. He told her of his mother and her "games" that became frighteningly real, and his adventure with Lyra, and what happened when they discovered their love for each other, and the end of Lord Asriel's war on heaven, and how he and Mary Malone had returned to Mary's flat and collected Will's mother and started a new life. He told her how he had gone to Oxford University and studied particle physics, and how he had met Alicia for the first time, and how he finally decided to become a professor at Oxford and pass on his knowledge and Dust along to a new generation. He told of how he returned to the Botanic Garden every Midsummer's Day at exactly noon to be with Lyra, and how he had returned to his house one day to find his mother dead, and how Mary Malone had followed her soon after, both dying peacefully in their sleep. And he told her of how he himself had been sitting on the bench on Midsummer's Day when he fell asleep and awoke to find himself in the land of the dead.

And when he was done with his story he felt as though hours must have passed, although time meant nothing in the land of the dead. "Come," said Gracious Wings finally, and, just as she had promised, she guided Will and Lyra upwards and to the point in the land of the dead where Will's window still stood, opening outward to blissful light and _life_ and the particles of their daemons and everyone who had ever died.

Will took Lyra in his arms. "I love you," he said, every bit of him seeming to be on fire, "and when we float up into the sky I'll find the particles that used to be Kirjava and the particles that used to be you and join with them. And they _will_ have to take two atoms when they want to make new matter, not just one." Lyra cracked a wide smile at his repetition of what she had said so long ago.

"I love you, too," answered Lyra, "and I'll never have to leave you after this, Will, never. I'll be with you in nature itself for eternity."

And with this, the elderly yet young couple took each other's hands and stepped out into the world of the _mulefa_. And when they drifted away they were met by Pantalaimon and Kirjava, and they hung onto each other as tightly as they could, their particles forming bonds stronger than any seen before, and they promised never to let go.

And on that very day at that very moment, two people were born simultaneously, a boy and a girl, one in Will's world and one in Lyra's.


	2. Cover of Darkness

**Chapter 1 – Cover of Darkness**

The night was just like any other night in the city of Oxford. Homeless slept on the streets and front porches, the few cars that were actually out this time of night swept by silently, and the stars from above were obscured by the streetlights below. But the man whose face was blocked by a mask and who was rendered nearly invisible by his dark clothing ignored all of this—his goal was far more important than trivial things like scenery.

_This is almost too easy_, he reflected as he continued down the streets. There was no security around the building, no MI5 or police on the streets—those who guarded this secret were very, very careful of placing security around it, for fear of discovery. And as the man stepped into the building, stopping briefly to turn his key and enter, he laughed out loud at the almost ridiculous ease with which he had gained entrance, remembering almost too late to remove his mask.

The night watchman was a man named Robert who was looking forward to a warm meal and warmer bed when he returned to his flat—he knew nothing of the absolute power that he was among the only security for. And, the man in the dark clothing thought, it did present an enormous advantage if you happened to work there.

The watchman's flashlight caught him in the face and caused him to blink furiously before Robert realized who it was and calmed down. "Oh, sorry," Robert said, slightly sheepishly. "Didn't recognize you for a second—go right through."

"Thanks, Robert," the man replied casually before pressing onward towards the elevator. He then pressed the button for the third floor and listened to the gentle whirr in the background until he arrived at his destination. The second watchman on this floor smiled at him and nodded him onwards.

The man continued on his way through the maze of hallways that he now found himself faced with. He always _had_ hated the labyrinth that any visitors to his floor would end up having to navigate, but he pressed his petty concerns aside and continued until he reached the door he was looking for.

He stopped and peered at the doorknob for a moment before feeling through his pocket until he found his identification card, sliding it through the slot quickly and watching the light turn from red to green as the door unlocked. He pulled the knob and pushed gently inwards, feeling his pulse quicken at the closeness of the goal that he had been working towards for the past two years.

_Calm down, calm down!_ He told himself. _Now is not the time to make a mistake._ Instead, with all the poise of a politician about to give an important speech, he quickly made his way straight to the main computer sitting in the corner of the room, ignoring all the useless trinkets that he found himself surrounded by. He knew exactly what he had come for.

He powered on the computer, then felt himself begin to sweat with anticipation as the screen flared up and filled with color. He removed his mask and wiped his brow with the palm of his hand, then turned back to the computer, which was now displaying a prompt asking for the first password. He confidently typed it in, then found himself confronted with a second password. He stopped for a moment before pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket—the word was so strange that he had made himself write it down, and now he was very grateful.

K-I-R-J-A-V-A, typed the man slowly before regarding the screen for a moment and then pressing enter.

The computer booted up completely, and a mother lode of files appeared in front of him. He removed the flash drive from his pocket and pressed a button—instantly the entire contents of the computer was transferred onto his drive, which glowed faintly for a moment before going dark and popping out of the computer's port.

The man's hands were damp with perspiration by this time, and he was literally shaking with excitement as he logged off and shut down the computer. He had activated the alarm—he now only had ten, fifteen minutes at best before the police arrived—_plenty of time_, he thought.

He transferred the flash drive to his pocket and exited the room, leaving the darkness behind him. Saying goodbye to the two night watchmen on duty, he exited the building and disappeared into the night. The only sign that he had ever entered in the first place was the door, which lay ajar, open because of the man's haste and excitement, its bronze inscription illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the glass window.

_Dark Matter Research Unit_

Fifteen minutes later, flashing lights lit up the front façade of the office building where the masked man worked and shrill sirens cut through the calm of the night. When they arrived, however, they found nothing, no sign save the open door that an intruder had ever entered, and the door could have easily been left open by a forgetful employee. Knowing nothing of what they were protecting and having only the testimonies of the two night watchmen to guide them, they concluded that the man's sudden visit had concluded so quickly that he needed to use the computer and forgot to turn off the alarm and close the door behind him, an honest mistake for a scientist making a sudden discovery. The next day the man's associates waited for him to come to work, but they never saw him again.


	3. Here and Now

**Chapter 2 – Here and Now**

_Thirteen years later…_

Lauren Woodward pushed her way through the teeming halls of Ryan High School, her heart beating frantically. She passed a group of football players on her right, and one of them bumped into her forcefully, forcing her to readjust her grip on her comp before continuing. All of the standbys of high school life surrounded her—a group of cheerleaders passed her on her left, their skirts barely long enough to pass for dress code. Two gay kids exchanged saliva next to a water fountain. A group of Alts stood in front of a genetics lab, chatting lazily, their perfect hair and gleaming teeth inspiring as much jealousy as it always did. A couple made their way to a privacy room, their clothes already partially removed. Only the final image had any lasting impression on her, as she was certain that she was the only remaining kid in her school that was still a virgin. She wasn't very proud of her looks, and she knew that sex would help her prepare for her later life, hence her extreme nervousness—she was about to ask a guy to go to a privacy room for the first time.

_Calm down_, came a voice in her head suddenly. _If you look too nervous, the other kids'll notice you, and you know that never ends well._ She stopped and took several deep breaths before chancing a glance at her organizer—only two minutes remained in the passing period, and she still had to make her way halfway across the school building. She quickened her pace, almost tearing a poster off the wall that read: **Will removing your implant too early decrease your chances of success in life? Statistics show that 60 of the time, that's the case. _Think before you act_.** Rolling her eyes at the stupidity of anyone that would choose to have their implant removed, she rushed through the hallway, dodging kids left and right.

Finally she arrived in front of her Nuclear Physics I class, breathing a sigh of relief. She took one last deep breath before opening the door, hand shaking with fear at what she was about to do. And, saying a quick prayer under her breath, she pushed the door open.

And there he was. He sat in the front row, as he always did—always the center of attention. His name was Alex; she didn't know his last name. But what she did know was that he was the greatest-looking thing that she had ever seen, and she had entertained many a fantasy about asking him to go to the privacy room. She took her seat with an unexplainable feeling traveling throughout her body, setting her computer up so hurriedly that she barely avoided sending it crashing to the floor, and began to daydream about Alex.

_Your parents always tell you how the world was so different in their time_, came a sudden and unwelcome voice. _How the blatant sexuality would eventually lead to hurt and exploitation. What would they think of you now?_ But she quickly shut it down—every kid's parents told them the same thing, and yet none of them cared. If she was ever to have a chance to go through what everyone else was going through, now would be the time.

Alex was perfect in her eyes. He looked good naturally, unlike the Alts' genetically engineered perfect bodies, which she was repelled as opposed to attracted by. He had never joined in with the popular girls and their friends while they made fun of her, showing that he was also somewhat sensitive, an extreme rarity those days. And there was something else, too—something that she couldn't explain that urged her to take action with this guy like none other before him.

And now was the time, her only chance. It was now or never; some other girl was sure to ask him to the privacy room before her and take up the last spot in his schedule; she knew that he was only available because he was having an argument with one of his PR buddies. Class would start in about a minute, and her teacher was almost never late. Psyching herself one last time—_I've prepared for this for months!_—she stood up and approached his desk.

She could have killed herself. She just stood there, breathing heavily and saying nothing. Every time that she tried to force the words out of her mouth, her muscles turned against her and refused to move. It wasn't until Alex turned to talk to one of his friends and found her standing in the way that he even noticed her.

As his eyes locked onto hers questioningly, she felt something inside of her snap, and suddenly the invisible bonds that had been holding her broke; _she could speak again_. Breathlessly, she pushed the words up from somewhere deep within her.

"Uh...hi, Alex."

"What?" asked Alex, and she felt a sudden doubt at the tone that he had used in addressing her—but it was too late now. _No, she wouldn't stop now; she couldn't._

"...would...would you like to go to the privacy room after class?" she asked, and she felt a sudden injection of self-confidence with this statement. She had done it. And what's more, she hadn't been shot down immediately! She was walking on air; she could do anything.

"I guess so," said Alex, and for a moment her ears didn't register his comment, but when they did it seemed to fit perfectly. _From this day on, everything about my life changes, _she thought with a sudden fervor. _No more being made fun of or teased, no more just sitting down and taking it, no more self-doubt for being the ugly girl. Alex just agreed to go with me to the privacy room! And maybe we could actually start a relationship...no, that's not what popular kids do. Well, I'll think of something._ Something within her cried out at these thoughts, but she pushed it down quickly and turned to Alex again, her face now drenched in perspiration.

"Really?" she asked, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. "I'll—I'll see you then, I guess," she said, and turned away quickly before her nervousness betrayed her doubt.

The instant she reached her desk, her teacher appeared on the main screen. "Good afternoon, class," came her voice, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Alex laughing about something—it couldn't possibly be _her_, could it? No, he wouldn't do that; she was just being stupid. Things were different now.

"Today we're going to be continuing our discussion of nuclear history," continued the teacher, Mrs. Adams. "Please open your notes to the section on the 20th century."

Lauren typed "nuclear notes" into the command prompter, although her notes were currently the last thing on her mind. What would it feel like? She was probably being a huge amateur when it came to sex, but in a few short hours she would be introduced to it—nothing else mattered. She was still flying high in this manner when a sudden message popped up on her comp. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the sender—it was Alex.

She still felt disconnected from her body as she opened up the message. It had no subject line, but instead consisted of only one word.

"_Dumbass."_

As the full meaning of the word slowly permeated her consciousness, she felt a terrible feeling, like all of her dreams were crashing down on her at once. He had only been screwing with her. She still had no chance of ever scoring with a guy...she would probably remain a virgin her whole life. She would never ask anyone to go to the PR with her again; as if anyone would want to.

And yet somewhere within her, her consciousness was relieved. _That's not you, Lauren,_ she told herself. _You don't want to be with a guy like that anyway._

_As if I could_, she said desperately before forcing herself to concentrate on the teacher's notes.

She hated Denton, Texas, with all of her heart. And she would give anything to be able to travel to a different universe altogether.


	4. Capture the Flag

**Chapter 3 – Capture the Flag**

"Come on, Ceres!"

Michael Darrow shouted angrily to his daemon as he flew after the boy ahead of him, whose brown hair blended in with the mud surrounding him and almost camouflaged him completely. The enormous fields of mud surrounding Michael's village made excellent grounds for games of Capture the Flag, which he was currently playing, as well as hide-and-seek and other such childish games, which he hadn't played for many years.

"I'm coming, Michael, dammit. Slow down!"

"Well then _hurry_, Cer!" shouted Michael, noticing that he was gaining on the boy much too slowly. Soon the boy, whose name was Andrew, would be back on his team's designated side and then home free. And that could _not_ happen, for Andrew had stolen Michael's team's flag, and the game would be over if he made it back.

Michael and Andrew shot past a large pile of dirt, which had been dug out of the ground in anticipation of the building of a new housing complex near where Michael lived. He had always been disdainful of this housing project that would pave and build on the mud fields that he and his friends had loved since they had been children. But now the project was the furthest thing from his mind—there was only one thing that filled his thoughts at the moment, and that was Andrew's hurriedly retreating back and the small stick with a white piece of paper at the end in his hand that represented defeat for Michael's team.

Michael could not have defeat. He had never, _never_ in his entire twelve years of life, lost a single game of Capture the Flag. There had been particular games during which he had been several men down, either by deliberate team stacking or by the fact that many of his team members had been tagged on their opponents' side, and he imagined himself as Davy Crockett at the Alamo, a million men down but still holding against Santa Anna and his troops. For three days and nights, only a hundred volunteers of the Texas army had held down the fort against thousands of Mexican troops until their reinforcements had arrived from Austin, and then they had trapped the Mexicans at the Alamo and solidly trounced them. The Battle of the Alamo, which was every Texan's greatest source of pride, represented everything to the Texan Empire—their freedom, their way of life, their strength, their perseverance. Even now, hundreds of years later, the Texans taught of the Battle of the Alamo to the peoples of the rapidly expanding land of Texas. They had been the ones to civilize the vicious peoples who lived on the land of the Great Continent to the north, to bring technology to Europe, to supply raw materials, most notably petroleum, to most of the world. His proud nation was now at the head of the world economy, and it was all thanks to the actions of one hundred brave people in San Antonio so long ago.

And so Michael imagined himself as Davy Crockett now. He pretended that his streaked blond hair was covered with a coonskin cap, and that his puny arms were muscular and his smooth face weathered. His team was outnumbered, it was true, but they would never surrender. No matter what, no matter how bad the odds seemed, he would always strive to win.

He noticed that his speed was picking up and that Cerestora had finally caught up with him. He thought quickly to Cerestora, _One, two...three!_ and her leopard-shaped form pounced on Andrew's bird-daemon Syneresthia, trapping her underneath his impressive bulk. Andrew was forced to slow to prevent the pain of being separated from his daemon, and Michael quickly leaped forward and tagged him, his triumphant smack leaving an imprint of mud on Andrew's already dirty shirt.

"Gotcha," said Michael breathlessly.

"Loser," said Andrew disdainfully before obediently moving to a side of Michael's base and counting to thirty, after which he would be free to dash back to his side.

"Forgetting something, Andy?" asked Michael teasingly, pointing to the flag which still lay clutched in Andrew's muddy hand. Andrew threw it at him, fury plainly etched on his pale face.

Michael was flying, and Cerestora changed into a sparrow to reflect his attitude. Holding the recovered flag high above his head, he ran as fast as he could back towards his own base, where his friends Daniel and Ashton were waiting for him. When they first saw him, they leapt toward him and lauded him with pats on the back and praising comments.

"Wish I could've seen the look on old Andy's face," said Daniel happily. "That little vein in his neck must've popped out a foot."

"Yeah, it did, Danny, but focus!" said Michael urgently. "The game's not over. We're up, sure, but we have to hide the flag again quickly before Andy and the rest of his team can make it back here. Now, where's a good space that we haven't used yet?"

"We could try over by the big mud pile," said Ashton, whose unimaginativeness was plainly evident at that moment to Michael.

"We've already talked over that like a million times," said Michael scornfully, waving his suggestion off like a particularly annoying fly. "We decided it would be too obvious, remember?"

"Fine," said Ashton. "You got a better idea?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," said Michael. "Over by the creek—"

"The creek's off-limits!" said Daniel vehemently, but Michael shushed him quickly before his voice could carry over to where Andrew's team was, most likely spying on them at this moment. There was no time.

"So what?" said Michael with a snort at Daniel's attitude. "I bet that Andy's over there hiding his underground right now, and we agreed that was off-limits too. But if you _want_ to lose, then I'm sure you can go with _Ashton_." He emphasized his other friend's hated name to show just how disappointed he was in Ashton's attitude.

Daniel made a face like he was going to argue, but Cerestora transformed into a particularly large tiger and leered at his coyote-formed daemon, and Daniel decided not to argue.

"Fine," said Daniel, giving in. "As long as we hurry. They're probably spying on us right now."

"Now you're thinking!" said Michael before running off in the direction of the creek, his two friends and their daemons behind him.

The creek was not really a creek at all as much as it was a point at the bottom of a small hill where water tended to gather on the rare days when there was both enough rain and low enough temperature for it not to evaporate. It was far beyond the land allotted to Michael's team and almost too far to walk, but if they ran they could probably hold out long enough without Andrew, Johnny, and Landon figuring out what they had done.

"Michael!"

The sudden voice put a halt to his thoughts, and he slowed to a stop quickly, his heart sinking. It was his mother.

"Come on, Mike," she said coaxingly. "Dinner's ready, and you've got to get ready for school tomorrow."

"Fine," he said with an exaggerated sigh, and Ceres transformed into a finch, her favorite form, and perched on his shoulder.

"How about we do this again tomorrow after school, Mike?" asked Daniel, and Michael nodded happily. He loved Capture the Flag with all his heart, and he felt as though, no matter how old he got, he would never tire of it.

And so, even though he had to go to school the next day, and even though his mom had made fish for dinner, Michael was happy. He had something to look forward to.

And as he sat in bed that night, eyes closed, heart pumping as he thought back on the day's events, he reflected on his life. He loved Denton, Texas, with all of his heart, and he never wanted to leave.


End file.
